An open letter: To Nigeria, with homesickness

An international student writes home

TOPE ORIOLA STAFF

Dear uncle,
Christmas is in the air and I thought to write to you on some issues. There is a practice you may consider implementing soon, especially when you have to host a large number of people. In Winnipeg, guests often attend dinners with their drink in tow. Tell your guests to come with their food or drink or both as it’s been done in Canada. However, people in Nigeria will query you about the essence of their invitation if they have to come with their food or drink. You might again be considered too miserly or broke. As regards the origin of this practice, I see the effects of unfettered “invisible hand” at work. Capitalism: long may you reign.

Nigerian ladies need to realize how fortunate they are to live in a society where men are groomed to believe they must be the sole provider. It is a “normal” practice here for couples, especially unmarried ones to split costs when they go out together. I experienced that not long ago and pitied my friends in Nigeria for the needless expense they have to bear for a mutual satisfaction.

It is very erroneous to assume that Canada is a predominantly Christian country. I have arrived at a tentative list of the major religions in Canada. They are: hockey, football (not soccer), rock music, skiing and Christianity, in that order.

Many gas stations here practise “self-serve.” So, as a customer, you are required to fill your own car tank and go in to meet attendants who are patiently waiting to collect money for services they did not render. Who on earth devised that mechanism of extortion?

I have been watching a number of interesting advertisements in Winnipeg. Some make a lot of sense, most don’t. One of the adverts argues on the need to prepare for all eventualities including the cost of burial! Why should the living bother about the cost of funerals? Whither familial or communal ties if you must map out strategies for your own funeral?

I recently visited a few high schools in Winnipeg. But for the signpost, you could think the students were university undergraduates. I was surprised to see students at a formative stage in life with very little discipline by Nigeria’s standards. Clearly, fashion, music, movies, clubs and romantic love are more important issues than their academics. I think those students need uniforms to streamline their excesses. It’s not surprising that more serious-minded private schools in the same city insist on uniforms among other relevant measures with better results. Some of those disciplinarians you were always handing me to in Nigeria might be sent to jail here for

I miss the naturalness, ebullience and effervescence of warmth that characterizes social life in Nigeria. Here, people ask you “how are you?” but don’t wait to hear your response; such a brisk, emotionally detached and self-afflicting approach to human relations.

rigorous enforcement of discipline as a Nigerian professor in the U.S. was sent to jail recently for enforcing discipline on his kids.

Do I miss home? You bet I do. I miss the naturalness, ebullience and effervescence of warmth that characterize social life in Nigeria. Here, people ask you “how are you?” but don’t wait to hear your response; such a brisk, emotionally detached and self-afflicting approach to human relations. Squeezing both lips backwards is supposed to suffice as greeting. No wonder the suicide rate is very high.

I miss Abuja, Nigeria’s capital, in particular. I miss the glaring excesses of endless convoys bearing very important personalities; the blaring and deafening sirens, over-zealousness of State Security Service personnel; gun-trotting, sinister-looking mobile policemen armed to the teeth — our meaningless military hang-over. I miss the numerous gists about the presidential villa and that feeling of always being in the know at the highest level. I miss the numerous opportunities to, as they say, speak truth to power face-to-face. Ottawa appears to be on a different planet.

What else do I miss? I miss Nigeria’s National Assembly, that architectural masterpiece, whose aesthetic splendour would amaze the most talented craftsmen and women in the world. I miss Abuja’s pitchblack roads. (Don’t ask me about Winnipeg roads; they’re disastrous). I miss the Nigerian National Petroleum Corporation towers; the pompous display of our misspent oil wealth, Nigeria’s nemesis.

Some of my friends too miss the hustle and bustle of Lagos. We miss the never ceasing flow of humanity in the world’s fastest growing metropolis. But I don’t miss the traffic in Lagos. I miss the critical broadcast of privatelyowned radio and television stations. And how can I forget the Nigerian Television authority (NTA)? I miss NTA and its never-ending propaganda on the network news at nine, which we called “network lies at nine.”

I miss the Christmas adverts I’m sure are already being aired, especially the “yellow Christmas” songs; the signature of blissful celebration made popular by a telecommunication giant. Well, the Christmas here is unlikely to be yellow, the snow will see to that. I miss the fireworks and sound of bangers of juveniles. You would not need to congregate somewhere for fireworks, they are everyone conceivable; such organized chaos.

Assured of your love and care twinkling from afar, I know I will have a good Christmas. May our reunion be in peace. Merry Christmas.

Tope Oriola is comment editor of the Manitoban and a graduate student in sociology.